


A Hard Day's Night

by Ealasaid



Series: A City In Shadows [16]
Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Cuddles, M/M, Mobsterswitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scofflaw looked exhausted. Even sleeping he was frowning about something, and there were circles reminiscent of Innovator’s under his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hard Day's Night

Scout had been out, running errands. He wasn’t the sort of guy to actually run errands, per se, but he’d been busy all week running around on Scoundrel business; being the new guy left him with all the chores no one else wanted to do. This was irksome, but livable. Scout just rolled with it. There wasn’t a lot he could do, or not that he really felt he could do about it since he’d come begging to their doorstep, more or less.  
  
Which wasn’t to say Scofflaw hadn’t been _excited_ about him joining. Scout was a straight-up member of the main crew, wasn’t he? Not just some lieutenant running a small time gang on the east side or anything. He got a decent cut of the take, which was paying for his own apartment _building_ —he was also a landlord now, not that he worried too much about _that_ —along with better booze and so many knives he nearly hyperventilated into oblivion with joy the first time he walked into a high-end weapons shop.  
  
But all the good from his career change aside, Scout was tired walking up the stairs to his flat. It had been a long week. He hadn’t seen Scofflaw in the past two and had been dealing with Innovator for a month, and he was about to throw something through the wall. He was pretty sure his refrigerator was empty and his place was a mess, and that made him more irritable under the circumstances than he’d like to admit. It was three in the morning, nothing was open that he wanted to go to, and fuck it all if he didn’t want to end up in an empty apartment _again_.  
  
He pushed the door in wearily, taking off his hat as he entered the place. That ended up on the coat rack, his jacket on the floor. Scout kicked off his shoes and dropped the bag of junk he’d been bringing in, mostly equipment he needed to fix, and flicked on the lights in the kitchen.  
  
The refrigerator was indeed empty. There wasn’t a lot in his cupboards either, no boxed pasta or anything. There was a can of olives and a can of tomato paste, some the heel ends of some incredibly stale bread, and a wilted thing of... something, that looked more like it was going to start growing mold. Scout chucked that out the window and reluctantly made a sandwich from the olives.  
  
He was heading to the bedroom (which would be filled with dirty laundry, damnit) when he stopped and stared, because Scofflaw was sleeping on his couch. It looked like he’d sat down at one end at some point waiting for whatever (Scout shied away from thinking it was him coming home being why Scofflaw waited) and nodded off, draped over the massive couch arm. He’d taken off his hat; it lay on the ground under the arm dangling off the end he was using as an impromptu pillow.  
  
Scout hesitated for a moment. Scofflaw looked exhausted. Even sleeping he was frowning about something, and there were circles reminiscent of Innovator’s under his eyes. His hair was disheveled and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least a week, maybe more. All Scout knew was that he’d been too busy to drop by the week before, and he hadn’t seen Scofflaw during any of his downtime this week. The desire to wake him up just to talk to him was pretty strong, but even thinking about waking him up to coax him onto the bed instead seemed like a terrible thing to do.  
  
Instead, Scout found a spare blanket in one of the cupboards and threw it over his lover, who didn’t wake even at the slight touch—another sign he should really stay asleep, Scout thought. Normally Scofflaw’d be awake and talking at the smallest sound, with well-concealed paranoia.  
  
The former detective picked up the mob boss’s hat and hung it up an the rack by the door before slumping wearily to the bedroom, where he stripped down hazily. He was at the point where everything moved extremely slowly from his brain’s inability to comprehend anything moving faster than a snail’s pace. It took him less than a minute to turn off the light and crawl into bed. He was asleep in seconds.  
  
Something like four hours later—there was light showing around the cracks of the blinds on the windows—Scofflaw slid between the sheets behind Scout and slurred a quiet “good morning.” Scout mumbled a response and rolled over. Scofflaw kissed his forehead.  
  
“Late night?”  
  
“Mmmyeah. You?”  
  
Scofflaw sighed and wriggled closer, pulling Scout up flush against him. “Yup.”  
  
“Sorry,” Scout murmured. “Go back to sleep, yeah?”  
  
Scofflaw’s breathing evened out almost immediately; he was back asleep. Heh. Scout took his own advice and closed his eyes again; he didn’t intend to wake up before one in the afternoon.


End file.
